


New Year’s Irresolution, or Oh, Sweet Merlin, What Did I DO Last Night?

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Hangover, Humour, M/M, New Year's Resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: The sorry tale of the morning after, in which there are goblins residing in Remus Lupin's brain, memories of failed blow-jobs, incriminating evidence and, most worryingly of all, Sirius is far too pleased about something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for blanketforts on lj

Remus forced open one eye and tried very hard to focus his vision, a task which was made considerably more difficult by the troupe of angry goblin tap dancers that appeared to have taken up residence in the back of his head. It took several minutes for him to decide that he was at home, in bed, and that despite all evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t lying on a bed of glass underneath a herd of stampeding Erumpents pulling tractors. 

‘Gah,’ he muttered feebly. His throat was thick with bile and his tongue felt approximately fourteen times its usual size. Water…if he could only find some water, perhaps he might just live. Craning his neck slightly— _ow, that hurt_. The tap dancing goblins had clearly acquired pick axes from somewhere—he could see a glass on the bedside table. He was saved! Now, if he could only just reach it…

Employing a superhuman effort, Remus forced himself to sit up. His stomach lurched horribly— _holy buggering fuck, who put a portkey in my pyjamas?_ —and he thought he might actually pass out. The combined torment of his head splitting in two, his parched throat and the overwhelming nausea in his stomach was too much: Remus collapsed, defeated, onto the pillows, resigning himself to his own imminent demise.

Unfortunately, whatever gods he’d unwittingly offended weren’t even prepared to allow him a peaceful, albeit excruciatingly painful, death. The devil himself marched into the room, doubtless cracking the skulls of infants and adorable fluffy bunny rabbits beneath his feet as he walked, cast some evil form of perverse Dark Magic that flooded the room with eye-burning _light_ , and dropped a metric tonne of wriggling bricks on the side of the bed.

‘Morning, Moony.’

Remus flinched: it wasn’t Satan come to torment his soul for all eternity after all, just Sirius opening the curtains. Close enough. ‘Nnngh,’ he muttered feebly, which he thought was fairly eloquent under the circumstances.

‘Tch, tch, Moony, what’s up with you?’ said Sirius brightly, brushing hair off Remus’ face. ‘Feeling a bit worse for wear, are we?’

Remus glowered silently at Sirius, who looked the picture of health as he grinned down at Remus with his usual air of insufferable self-satisfaction and positively _bounced_ on the edge of the bed. Sadistic bastard.

‘C’mon, Moony, cheer up,’ said Sirius, apparently unperturbed by Remus’ fiercest scowling. ‘I brought you some tea.’

Remus allowed Sirius to haul him upright and sipped the sweet, milky tea that Sirius had brought for him. The warm liquid made his mouth and throat feel marginally less like he’d been sucking on a camel’s backside for a week and he could almost feel his brain re-hydrating. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to brutally murder Sirius once he’d got his strength back after all.

He was forced to reconsider his decision to grant Sirius clemency for the crime of being inexplicably not hungover when Sirius dragged him out of bed, insisting that a shower would wake Remus up properly and clear his head. And so it might have, if someone hadn’t Charmed the water in the shower to take on the density of lead, so that a thousand ball-bearings clattered over Remus’ skull when he turned on the tap. Still, the onslaught did seem to have battered the goblins into submission, as the throbbing in his head had subsided marginally once he stepped out of the shower.

Remus experienced a strange feeling of déjà vu as he stumbled out of the shower and nearly fell head-first into the toilet bowl, which was…odd, he thought, shaking his head and blinking in confusion. There was definitely something strange about his toothbrush as well. Remus glanced over at Sirius, hoping for some sort of an explanation, but Sirius just arched his eyebrows in an infuriatingly knowing fashion and Remus resolved not to give him the satisfaction of asking.

Half an hour later Remus had drunk two more mugs of tea, a large glass of pumpkin juice and had even managed to force down a couple of slices from the mountain of toast with raspberry jam that Sirius had insisted on making for him. Remus felt a little more human, though Sirius’ remorseless cheerfulness was becoming increasingly vexing.

‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ he asked eventually, when Sirius used his finger to scoop jam off Remus’ toast and sucked it off in a thoroughly disgusting manner.

‘Oh, you know, life,’ shrugged Sirius happily. ‘You. The party last night.’

Remus froze in shock. Sirius was right; there _had_ been a party the night before. That was why he had such a terrible hangover. Only…he was a little hazy on the details, and the fact that Sirius was so very, very happy about something was surely a cause for alarm. The goblins in his head started tapping their feet again.

‘Are you going to elaborate, or are you just going to sit there grinning at me and looking smug?’ he asked tetchily.

‘Now, now, Moony, that’s no way to go on,’ Sirius scolded him gently. ‘Don’t want to be breaking your New Year’s resolutions on the first of January, do you?’

‘I don’t make New Year’s resolutions,’ replied Remus, ‘and even if I did, I’m sure I’d be able to keep them longer than certain scatter-brained Animagi I could mention.’

‘ _Au contraire_ , my dear Moony, you do make New Year’s resolutions,’ said Sirius, sounding insanely pleased with himself. ‘In fact, this year, you made quite a list. Starting with a resolution to be nicer to your darling Padfoot.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ scoffed Remus.

Sirius grinned even more broadly than ever— _he’s going to swallow his own ears if he’s not careful_ , thought Remus grouchily—and produced a sheet of parchment with a triumphant flourish. ‘The evidence, my dear Moony,’ he announced dramatically as he handed the parchment to Remus.

Remus took the parchment and stared at it, frowning. ‘This is clearly a forgery,’ he announced at last. ‘I would never write anything so ridiculous.’

‘Ah, but see, you signed at the bottom,’ said Sirius, pointing. 

‘So I resolved to “be much nicer to my dearest Padfoot, because he is wonderful and marvellous in every way and deserves to be properly appreciated as the best boyfriend in the world ever” of my own free will, did I?’ asked Remus sarcastically.

‘Indeed you did,’ said Sirius proudly, helping himself to a slice of toast. ‘You’re a very affectionate drunk, and somewhat effusive as well.’

‘Pfft,’ scoffed Remus, but there was a horrible sense of familiarity about the parchment before him. He continued to read with a growing sense of doom. ‘I…I can’t possibly have written this,’ he insisted— _deny, deny, deny!_ —‘it’s obviously your sick idea of a practical joke.’

‘Ah, Moony, what a thing to say,’ said Sirius with a mock frown. ‘But not entirely unexpected. However, as you can see, the document has been verified by an independent witness.’ He jabbed the parchment with a jammy finger again. Remus wiped the jam away and read:

_I hereby certify and declare that the above document was drafted by Remus Lupin, of his own volition (or to be more precise, insistence) and that no undue pressure was exerted on said Remus Lupin by Sirius Black, or any other person or persons here present. The aforewritten is wholly and completely the fault of Remus Lupin and he’s not allowed to try to wriggle out of it or attempt to shift the blame onto Sirius, as usual, on account of Sirius being wholly innocent on this occasion (for a bloody change) ._

_Being of sound mind and body,_

_Lily Evans_

_PS – I further certify that not only was James Potter not implicated in the drafting of this document, but he actively attempted to discourage it and is therefore especially not to blame._

_L.E._

Remus dropped his head into his hands and groaned. The writing was a bit wobbly, and the style had the air of drunken wordiness, but in his heart of hearts, he knew it was genuine. ‘Holy buggering fuck,’ he muttered. ‘I suppose Lily read all of this before she wrote the bit at the end?’

‘Read it out loud, in fact,’ confirmed Sirius cheerfully. ‘Every last word.’

‘Oh, sweet Merlin,’ groaned Remus hopelessly. ‘Even the bit about me promising to give you a blow job at least once a day?’

‘Twice on weekends,’ said Sirius, tapping the parchment. ‘It’s a Saturday today, in case you’re interested,’ he added innocently.

‘Don’t push your luck,’ said Remus warningly. ‘I suppose this is what you’re so pleased about, is it? My abject humiliation?’

‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ said Sirius. ‘I am very happy about something that happened last night, though.’

‘Oh, and what might that be?’ huffed Remus. ‘No, don’t tell me—I stripped naked and turned cartwheels around the living room, before offering Peter the opportunity to use my knob as a coat hook?’

‘No,’ sniggered Sirius. ‘Although I can’t deny I would have enjoyed that very much. ’Specially the part about you being naked. I’m actually thinking of something after the party.’

Remus closed his eyes and tried to think back. He could dimly remember flashes from the night before, but it was all horribly hazy. What could he have done to make Sirius so stupidly triumphant? ‘Padfoot, I’m really not in the mood for games,’ he said wearily. ‘Can you just please tell me what I did and get it over with?’

‘It’s not so much what you _did_ ,’ Sirius told him. ‘It’s more what you _said_.’

Remus furrowed his brow in concentration. What had he said that would have such an effect on Sirius? He didn’t remember having any coherent conversations after their guests had left at all, other than when he begged Sirius to make the floor stop spinning, but he was sure there was more to it than that.

‘Still can’t remember?’ asked Sirius. ‘I’ll give you a clue: you told me a secret.’

‘A—a secret?’ stuttered Remus.

‘Mm-hmm,’ nodded Sirius. ‘A very deep, dark secret. It was something I’ve suspected for quite some time now, but you didn’t actually admit it until last night.’

Remus flushed, panic rising in his chest. It must have been something really terrible to amuse Sirius so much. _Oh, gods, I didn’t tell him about when I accidentally mistook him for his brother, and pinched Regulus’ arse when we were getting on the train?_ he worried. _Or perhaps I told him about how I got hard that time Peter snogged James for a bet?_

‘I…I don’t remember,’ said Remus shakily, pushing his chair back. ‘I don’t think I even _want_ to remember.’

‘Oh, but Moony, you _must_ ,’ said Sirius, standing up and swinging a leg over Remus’ body before depositing himself in his lap. Remus wriggled and groaned: being pinned down by ten stone of smug Animagus was not helping his hangover, or making it any easier for him to think. 

‘You’re not helping!’ Remus squeaked as Sirius leant into him, sending hot puffs of breath down Remus’ neck.

‘It should,’ said Sirius, stroking Remus’ face and kissing him lightly. ‘It was a secret about me, after all.’

Remus gulped: judging by Sirius’ attempts to molest him, he could only assume he’d revealed some sordid sexual fantasy he’d had about Sirius—but which one? ‘Sirius, please, can’t you just tell me?’ he asked, trying and failing to keep the note of desperation out of his voice as his stomach churned painfully and the goblins put on clogs and started skipping around his brain.

‘Well,’ said Sirius, sitting back and pouting slightly, ‘if it helps, we were in the bathroom. You were sick.’

‘I was?’ Remus tried to sound innocent, but he was starting to realise why almost falling into the toilet had felt so strangely familiar that morning.

‘You were,’ confirmed Sirius. ‘On me, in fact. You were trying get an, ahem, head start on your promise to supply me with regular blow-jobs at the time.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ groaned Remus, ‘I didn’t…’

‘Nah, not quite,’ grinned Sirius cheerfully. ‘You couldn’t quite manage to get m’trousers off and were sucking on my knee at the time.’

Remus frowned and concentrated very hard—slowly, it was all starting to come back to him. ‘I think the fabric must have made me gag,’ he said, ‘I was sick, all over your socks.’

‘And the floor,’ added Sirius helpfully.

‘Then you made me lean over the toilet until I’d finished retching,’ continued Remus, as the memory became more and more vivid. ‘And you brushed my teeth for me afterwards because I kept missing my mouth.’

‘Which was nice of me,’ smiled Sirius, ‘wasn’t it?’

‘It was,’ agreed Remus, his annoyance fading slightly as he watched the expression of almost childish enthusiasm on Sirius’ face affectionately. ‘And you promised to never leave me, no matter how often I threw up on you.’

‘It’s true, you know,’ Sirius insisted loyally. ‘I’d never dump you for being a puking lightweight who can’t hold his liquor. Do you remember what you said after that?’

Remus chewed his lip and concentrated hard. He could remember swaying as he struggled to stand upright, Sirius wrapping an arm around his waist to stop him falling over, and the earnest look on Sirius’ face (which was rather blurry) as he promised to stay with him no matter how many pairs of socks he ruined. He’d felt a sudden surge of drunken affection for his boyfriend, and had to pull him close so he could whisper in his ear…

‘I love you, Padfoot.’

‘Bingo!’ whooped Sirius triumphantly, bouncing in his lap and grinning manically. ‘You love me.’

‘Is that it?’ asked Remus, thunderstruck. ‘You’re leaping around like a hyperactive two year old because I told you that I love you? You are such a sap, Pads. You know I love you.’

‘Yes, yes, I know _that_ ,’ said Sirius breezily. ‘But you never say it. It might have taken the better part of two bottles of firewhisky to get you to admit to it, but you _did_ say that you love me. You almost looked like you might cry for a bit; it was all very moving.’

‘You really are the most ridiculous, sentimental, infuriating, soppy, deranged—’

‘—yeah, yeah,’ Sirius interrupted, ‘but you love me.’ Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius cut him off by kissing him firmly. ‘You _luuurve me_ ,’ he crowed.

‘OK, I love you,’ admitted Remus. ‘Now can you get off me please? Having you jumping all over me isn’t doing my hangover any good.’

‘Ooh, yes, I can probably give you this now,’ said Sirius, twisting around and picking up a glass of something gloopy and purple from behind the jam jar. ‘Drink up,’ he commanded, pressing the glass to Remus’ lips. It smelt awful and was fizzing in a very worrying manner, but when Remus tried to ask what it was Sirius simply tipped the glass up and poured the liquid into Remus’ mouth. It tasted of stale eggs, vinegar, liquorice and everything horrible, and made Remus splutter and gag. ‘Swallow, Moony,’ ordered Sirius as sternly as he could whilst suppressing a fit of giggles. Remus didn’t have much choice since Sirius had clamped his hand over his mouth, so he closed his eyes and gulped down the foul potion.

Remus’ throat burned as the noxious concoction slid down, exploding on impact in his stomach. His guts lurched, and for a horrible second he thought the potion might actually turn him inside out, or at least make him throw up (again), or pass out or die; possible all three at once. He took a deep breath, belched loudly, and then…realised his stomach didn’t hurt any more. His throat wasn’t aching, and the goblins appeared to have moved out of his head. He felt _fucking brilliant_. Despite his best efforts to remain cross and disapproving with Sirius, a relieved smile spread across his face. _No more hangover!_

‘Ace, isn’t it?’ asked Sirius, looking, if such a thing were possible, even more stupidly pleased with himself than he had all morning. ‘The world’s greatest ever hangover cure. Me and Evans invented it.’

‘It is quite good,’ admitted Remus grudgingly. ‘It also accounts for your lack of suffering all morning. What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have given me it an hour ago.’

‘Wanted to be sure that you loved me for myself and not just my super potions-making skills,’ said Sirius, leaning back into Remus and trailing kisses down his neck.

Remus rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘Then what do I love you for? Your infuriatingly smug self-satisfaction, perhaps? Or your unbearable egoism? Maybe it’s your bizarre sadistic streak that attracted me to you?’

‘Mmm, kinky,’ muttered Sirius into Remus’ shoulder. He turned his head and looked up at Remus, eyes bright and smiling affectionately. ‘But you do, though, don’t you? Love me?’

Remus laughed. ‘Yes, you daft dog, I love you.’ He paused and kissed Sirius on the nose. ‘Very much.’

‘Good,’ smiled Sirius. ‘Because I love you, _and_ I’ve got to tell you what my New Year’s Resolutions are.’

‘Oh, I expect they’re all thoroughly depraved and I wouldn’t want to hear them.’

‘’Fraid they are, rather,’ said Sirius huskily. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I showed you instead?’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Remus, suppressing a moan as Sirius rocked his hips against him and grazed his teeth lightly across the tender flesh at the base of his neck. ‘Perhaps that would be for the best.’


End file.
